The Biggest Mistake
by The Plaid Shirt
Summary: Justin returns from New York with a plan to reconnect with his former lover. But he'll need his best friend to do it. J/B
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Oh, Daphne. I just love you to death. If you ever decide to become more than just a fan of lesbianism, give me a call. Anyway, I started this story over a year and a half ago, and just randomly decided to give it a massive rewrite and finish it. I'll have a lot of freetime until my season three DVD's come next week.  
**Author's Note Two:** This is a fixit, so there's spoilers everywhere.  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own Queer as Folk. If I did, Brian and Justin would have ended up together on the screen instead of on paper.

**The Biggest Mistake**

* * *

_**Justin**__: So what do you do when you realize you made the biggest fucking mistake of your pathetic, stupid life?_

* * *

Deep down I think all us girls want is to be a part of a big love story. You know, the kind where the Princess fucks up and the Prince rides in to save the day (well, I'm a modern woman, modern enough to know that sometimes it's the Prince that needs the saving. But I digress). Where at the end there's this huge climatic kiss that tells you everything you need to know-that this pair is in it for life. We were all raised on Sleeping Beauty and Snow White so really, what can you expect?

When I was 17 my best friend met and fell in love with the person least likely to reciprocate his feelings. Brian Kinney was a legend, famous to everyone that spent any time on Liberty Ave. - his fucks were epic, his philosophies moreso. It was common knowledge that Brian didn't do boyfriends, and _certainly _didn't do love. And everyone warned Justin not to get attached because he wouldn't get what he wanted.

Except that he did. Somehow my best friend found a way to be loved by the eternal bachelor, the Peter Pan of the queer sect. And, I mean, okay, it did take Brian five years to say the words Justin said to him the day they met, but as long as we're being honest here, if someone pays for your schooling after you dump them (in a crowded room, in front of everyone), takes you back the night you ask, not to mention, oh, I don't know, being with you every day after you've been beaten in the head with a baseball bat, you shouldn't waste your time worrying about how they feel. It's pretty obvious. But Justin rarely listens to me.

They were gonna be married, you know. Get all dressed up and tell each other in front of their friends and family why they couldn't bear the thought of living without the other person. But the thing you gotta understand about Justin-or you'll never understand the Part Two of their story that I'm about to share with you- is that his whole gay life had been about Brian. And he knew that if he didn't go to New York and try to become something more, he and Brian both would always wonder if he was with Brian because he wanted to be, or if he was just afraid of being alone. So he had to try it, for the good of their Epic Love Story.

Justin had been gone for a year and a half when he called me and asked me to go to New York to see him. I thought I was in for a week of expensive shopping and great pizza, so I'm sure you can imagine my shock when I stepped into his apartment and saw nearly a dozen sealed boxes lining the wall to the living room.

For a second I didn't move and the only sound was that of Justin shutting the front door. I could feel his eyes staring into the back of my skull while I processed what I was seeing. "Justin you've lived here for a year and a half," I eventually said. "I'm pretty sure it's safe to unpack." Because I wanted so badly to believe what my mind was whispering, but unbelievably amazing things don't usually happen to people like me.

Justin laughed and swung his arm across my shoulders. "Yeah, but I was thinking it might be more fun to do that in Pittsburgh."

It took every ounce of self-control I possessed to avoid shrieking out loud. I had missed Justin more than I had thought I would, and was slowly getting to a point where I was going to go crazy without my sounding board. What? He's not the only one with problems. "You're moving back," I demanded for clarification.

"Well this whole finding myself thing has been a lot of fun-and, thanks to my artistic genius, lucrative-" Here I rolled my eyes. "But there's no Woody's up here," he teased. Then there was a flicker and his eyes turned more serious. "And plus, I guess I kind of miss you, and Mom, and-"

"Brian," I finished for him. I grabbed a glass that was drying on the counter, and poured myself some water, the only thing he had in the fridge.

Justin rolled his eyes. "Daph, please. I'm completely over Brian Kinney," he answered, but his voice shook, and I'd known him long enough to translate that with ease.

I licked my lips carefully before responding. This was the opening I had been waiting for, but it took me a second to summon the words. No matter what Justin was pretending to feel, the news I had to deliver would not be welcome. "Well that's probably for the best anyway," I began.

"Why," Justin asked distractedly, as he pulled a tin box from the drawer of his coffee table. He would be needing that shortly, that was for sure.

I took a deep breath and just dove right in. "He's been seeing someone."

Complete silence filled the room, and I glanced at my friend to be sure he had heard me. Based on his expression, he had.

"What do you mean, 'seeing someone,'" Justin finally answered. "You're saying . . . What? He has a boyfriend? A _boyfriend_?" Yeah, it had seemed pretty ludicrous to me too when I'd first heard, considering Brian had had exactly one boyfriend his whole life - the guy I was standing with.

I stepped close and laid my hand on Justin's shoulder. "I'm sorry," I said. I really was. Even to a slightly-outsider like myself, the idea of either one of them finding happiness without the other was like trying to understand physics. You see what's happening with your eyes, but it doesn't _really _make sense. "They've been, uh, together for four months."

"Four months," Justin repeated incredulously. "Brian has been . . . Dating someone for four _fucking months_ and you're just now mentioning it? God, Daphne. You're supposed to keep me updated on this kind of thing!"

I frowned in annoyance. "You need to chill out. I only just heard, and it's not the easiest thing to tell your best friend over the phone. 'Hey, you're soulmate's found someone. Thought you'd like to know.' Justin, it's not like I get my kicks out of watching you suffer."

He fell silent again while he processed, until he slid his eyes over to meet mine. The corners of his lips turned up to form a tiny smile. "Well, are you going to help me win him back or what?"


	2. Chapter 2

As it turned out, his invitation to visit him would be less about recreation and relaxation, and more about slave labor. It took nearly every minute of the next five days to get his apartment ready for the big move (my best friend apparently hordes more shit than anyone I've ever known). In our free time we tried to plot, but the night before we were supposed to leave for Pittsburgh we were still out of ideas.

"What if we kidnap Owen, tie a cement block to his ankle, and toss him into the ocean," Justin suggested, taking a long hit of the blunt, then passing it to me. "Would that be wrong?"

"Pretty sure we're going to have to count murder out," I answered sadly. "I'd definitely get caught."

"Definitely," Justin agreed, then ducked when I threw the lighter at him.

I smiled a little to myself, and hit the blunt again. It was odd, I decided, the way things had worked out. Here Justin and I were, six and a half years after he met Brian, and still searching for a plan a way to win him over. But in spite of Owen, or anyone else that might have arisen, I knew better than to be worried. Brian had always loved Justin - from the word go, the moment they met. No matter what he said, or who he fucked, or how many times he threw my best friend out of the loft, he had always wanted him more than anyone else. He'd loved him, and only him.

I glanced at Justin, realizing that he'd fallen silent. He was staring out the window, his eyes unfocused.

"Justin?"

He turned back to me. "What's he like," he asked. I blinked, a little taken off guard by the question. After all, I had been in town now for a few days and this was the first time he'd asked anything specific about Owen. I'd just assumed that he didn't want to know - that the idea of his ex-lover with someone else was too painful to even think about.

"Well," I began, "He's, you know. Nice, I guess. He loaned me a lighter once."

"The most detailed information you can give me is that he's nice?"

I sighed. "Justin, I'm not sure how healthy this is."

"Daph."

"Look, Owen is . . . Honestly, he's a lot like you."

Justin looked stunned. "Like me?"

"Yeah, you know. Younger. Smart. Funny. Nice. Creative - he plays the acoustic guitar."

_"He's a musician?"_

I knew he wasn't going to be thrilled about that particular trait. I wondered if he was remembering a violinist from another lifetime. "Relax," I soothed. "It's going to be fine. Yes, you and he are _similar_, but that's it. He's not a replacement for Justin Taylor, he's a stand-in. A carbon copy. Not the original, not even close."

He laughed. "You have to say that shit because you're my best friend," he answered, but the anxiety in his eyes seemed to lessen somewhat.

"And as your best friend," I said, "I think it's my duty to point out that if we don't get some sort of semblance of a plan pretty soon, we're going to be in big trouble. The two of you will be sharing a city _tomorrow _for God's sake."

"I realize that." But it was too late. He was too distracted now by the thoughts of Brian's new boyfriend to continue working on Operation Britin (as we were calling it) tonight. "So, do you think he still loves me?"

The words were there on the tip of my tongue, the memories of my many run-ins with Brian over the last year and a half racing through my mind. I could still remember the sound of my knock against the door to the loft the night, just a month after he had left, that Justin had sent me over there to retrieve his lucky pencil. Rather, he had said it was about the pencil, but I had known, of course, that it was actually about checking on Brian, which had been just fine with me. Really, he was too fucking gorgeous for his own good.

I hadn't heard anything, so, assuming he was out, I'd let myself in, using the alarm code Justin sent me with. I'd jumped a mile when Brian's soft, "What the fuck are you doing here," had drifted over from the couch, and nearly jumped again when I realized how completely out of it he was. A bag of white powder, another bag of weed, and a large bottle of Jim Beam were all lined up on his coffee table, and while I didn't know a whole lot about mixing pharmaceuticals, I knew enough to guess that all of these things together could only lead to a disaster. I'd never been so relieved to have Michael Novotny in my cellphone contacts.

Later, once Michael had arrived and I was on my way out the door, Brian had called out to me, "Don't tell him."

I hadn't answered right away. I didn't like keeping things from Justin, and I was pretty sure he would disown me if he found out I was hiding something like this.

"Daphne," he'd continued. "Don't. We both know he'll just come running back here, and what the fuck will that solve?"

In the end I'd agreed. Of course. Like I said: too gorgeous for his own good.

"Yes," I said to Justin now, passing him the blunt. "I really think he does. And that's enough with the self-doubts. Now, are we, or are we not, Mounties?"

Justin grinned. "We always get our man."

"That's the spirit!"

*

The next morning, much too early to even consider being awake, Justin and I directed the movers to the boxes and furniture that were going with us. They would be meeting us in Pittsburgh later that night at my apartment, where we would be housing everything until Justin and Brian were reconciled and he was living at the loft again. Because, like I said, Brian had always loved Justin, so it was only a matter of time until we got this whole mess straightened out.

The plane trip was short, less than two hours, and we spent the time playing cards, and listening to the girls in the seats behind us gush over the fact that the famous artist, Justin Taylor, was sitting right in front of them. I couldn't stop myself from rolling my eyes when they approached him for an autograph. Great. Now he'd be preening for a week.

"You're sure you don't have to go see your mom first," I questioned as we stepped off the plane.

He shook his head. "I'm sure. She's got a lot of houses to show today, so she probably won't even get home until seven." He paused. "So, we never really figured everything out about Operation Britin. Where's the first stop going to be?"

It was true that we hadn't discussed it again since the night before, but I had actually been hit by inspiration on the plane-ride. "Liberty Diner."

"Liberty Diner," he repeated in a none-too-flattering tone.

Once again my brilliance was lost on those around me. "Well, this is the way I figure it," I began. "I know the last time you won Brian back we just kind of stuck you everywhere he was. And it worked great. But I mean, I think it's time we took a subtler approach. You know, plant the seed of your return as opposed to being all in his face."

He shrugged. "Whatever. You're the master."

I truly was. Too many viewings of _The Parent Trap_ as a child.

The diner was crowded by the time we got there, the only available seats being the ones at the bar. As we made our way, I stole a quick look at Justin, who seemed, well, terrified. I tried to imagine what it would be like to leave everyone I knew and loved behind, and then to reappear out of nowhere at the one place they frequent every day, and couldn't even begin to guess what I would feel. I gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Holy shit!"

The sudden cry came from behind us, and we turned at the same time. When I saw who it was I had to smother a groan.

"Hunter," Justin said in surprise.

And it _was _Hunter standing there, his pen and pad poised to take our orders. He stared at each of us in turn, and I hoped Justin couldn't read his expression when it was directed at me. I had taken a lot of precautions to ensure-

"You're back," Hunter answered. Then his eyes brightened. "Shit. Are you here to fight for Brian? Because that would be so fucking awesome. His new boyfriend is kind of an asshole."

Based on Justin's expression there was no better news he could have heard. "Really? Because Daphne said that he was alright."

Hunter rolled his eyes and leaned against the counter. "He's not the spawn of Satan or anything. But _he _isn't one of the creators of 'Rage.' _He _isn't the corporeal version of J.T." But then his eyes moved to me. "Does Michael know he's in town?"

"No one does," Justin answered. "Why?"

See, this is why people should never lie to their best friend. Because I knew where Hunter was going with this question, and it was another thing I'd been dragging my feet about telling Justin.

"Michael hates you."

I glared at Hunter for his blunt explanation. "He's exaggerating. Michael doesn't _hate _you, he's just not your biggest fan right now."

Justin glanced at the two of us in deep suspicion. "Why?"

And wouldn't you fucking know it that at that exact moment the door to the diner swung open, and we all glanced over at the same time. I'd tell you who it was, but you're probably smart enough to guess.

He ignored Justin completely, but stared at me with unconcealed fury. "What the fuck is he doing here," he snapped.

It was Michael, of course it was Michael.

"I thought you said he was working this morning," I hissed to Hunter.

"He just hired someone. I tried to call you."

"I moved back," Justin answered, missing my exchange with Hunter, and addressing Michael.

"You brought him back," Michael practically shrieked. I looked around for Debbie, whom I was hoping would be on my side, but for the first time ever the woman was nowhere to be found. "What were you thinking? After all the -"  
"All the what," Justin asked, turning to me.

"You didn't tell him," Michael demanded incredulously.

"I asked her not to." Though we were all quite familiar with the voice, all four us looked up. And there, donning the most unreadable expression in history, was Brian Kinney.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Thanks so much for all the comments! Much appreciated. .

It was as if Brian's presence had drained all the life out of the room, though of course it had to be my imagination. All the other patrons were continuing their conversations, drinking their drinks, eating their lunches, utterly unaware of what was going on at the counter. But to me it felt amazingly silent as Brian and Justin looked each other in the eyes for the first time in I wasn't even sure how long. Yes, Justin had been back to Pittsburgh for my birthday, and the first Thanksgiving after his departure, but Brian had been out of town for the former, and barely present at all at the latter.

Long seconds ticked by until Hunter, who had never really been all that good at holding his tongue, turned to me. "What are they doing," he stage-whispered.

I shrugged. "I'm not sure," I murmured back. "I think this is one of their things that they do. Stare at each other until someone makes them stop."

"Well, do you mind? It's weirding me out."

But luckily it didn't fall to me. Justin blinked, then flicked his gaze over to meet mine. "Tell me what's going on," he instructed softly.

I wanted to give him an answer, I really did. He'd been my best friend for so long, and like I said, I don't exactly enjoy lying. But I'd given my word, so my lips stayed glued together. Fucking Michael. He had to ruin everything.

"Daphne," Justin said, a little sharper this time.

I looked to Brian imploringly, wordlessly begging him to put me out of my misery. Another thirty seconds of the slightly terrifying glare on my best friend's face and I would be forced to make a run for it, leaving everyone to their own devices. Which, considering the fury reverberating off of Michael, would probably lead to a homicide.

Brian sighed. "Don't be mad at Daphne. It's not her fault."

"What's not her fault," Justin returned. "Can no one give me a fucking straight answer here?"

"I missed you."

The words hung in the air, and this time I was pretty sure it wasn't in my head that the tension in the room changed slightly. Justin's expression softened (he really is just a big huge romantic on the inside) and he moved toward Brian.

"I missed you too," he answered quietly.

The corners of Brian's lips turned up in a way that was familiar even to me. That had always been one of Justin's special Brian-specific powers: to make the man smile even when he didn't want to. But as Justin went to lay his hands on Brian's arms, Brian quickly stepped back.

"And, as I missed you, I acted in some ways that certain people-" He glanced at Michael. "Thought were a little extreme."

"Extreme how?"

I felt a certain amount of sympathy for Brian, so I answered this particular question myself. "It's not a big deal, Justin. There were drugs - which, as I'm sure you remember, isn't exactly out of the ordinary."

"Okay," Justin said slowly. "So, there were drugs. Big deal. I have some of my own in my suitcase."

Hunter and I snorted simultaneously.

"And," Michael prompted angrily, his dark eyes focusing on mine.

And now it was my turn to exchange a look with Brian. No, this next act of desperation wasn't high on his list of shining moments, I was quite sure. But I knew that it couldn't come from Michael - Brian or I would have to step up.

"And a car accident," I blurted. Like a fucking band-aid. "There was a car accident. Everyone was fine . . . I mean, you know, obviously, since we're all standing here."

"What kind of car accident?" Justin looked extremely ill-at-ease, as though he sort of had a feeling about what was coming, what had caused the accident. "What happened?"

Shit. At that moment I really could have buried my head in my hands, but I figured that it would probably look a little guilty. How could I, or even Brian, explain what exactly had transpired that evening to Justin's satisfaction? One minute I had been sitting at a red light on Queen St., and the next -

Brian glanced at me. "I . . . I had been drinking. I knew I shouldn't be driving." He paused, rubbed the back of his neck. "But I was. And when I came to the corner of Liberty and Queen . . ." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I didn't notice, I guess, that the light was red. Or that there was a car in front of me. And I rear-ended Daphne."

I chanced another look at Justin, then felt my mouth dry up. I'd never seen him so stricken. His face was pale - well, paler than usual - and his eyebrows were up at his hairline.

"I didn't even break," Brian added, so quietly that it was almost impossible to hear.

I felt Hunter stiffen beside me, but I couldn't move my eyes from Justin's face. This was exactly what I had been hoping would never come up, something Justin would be better off not knowing.

"She broke her arm." And it was Michael who was talking now, but at least he seemed to have found a way to calm himself. I supposed Brian's transparent guilt was enough to rein in his temper. "And had to get some stitches in her hand."

And it was like a spell was being lifted from Justin. He turned to me, his eyes positively flashing, and I couldn't stop myself from taking an unsteady step backwards. "You broke you arm," he demanded, a myriad of emotions passing across his face. "You were in a car accident with Brian, and you broke your arm." His jaw clenched. "Show me your stitches."

"I'm really going to kill you," I muttered to Michael, though I was fairly certain that Hunter was the only one that heard. I extended my right hand, palm up, and it was hard to miss the two small white lines, about an inch in length, below my thumb. Justin eyed them in silence. "Don't be mad," I told my best friend. "It was just an accident."

And he turned around and left.

"Shit," I gasped, then I started to follow him. But I stopped before I reached the door, and walked back to Michael, with my index finger pointing at him with an accusatory glare. "You," I gave him my most withering stare, "are on my list."

It didn't take long to locate Justin, who seemed to have lost the fight in him, and was wandering aimlessly along Liberty Ave. He had to hear my approach, what with my wheezing and gasping for breath (What do you want me to say? I'm not a runner.) but he didn't turn.

"Justin," I forced out, "please, can't we talk about this?"

"You lied to me!" He spun around, and met my eyes. "You lied. Every fucking day, for a year. You didn't tell me any of this! You let me come back here without any indignation at all as to what I was getting myself into! You let me think that this whole thing was going to be simple -"

"It _is _simple," I interjected. "The fundamentals haven't changed. Brian loves you, and he always has."

"And he hit my best friend with a car!"

"It was an accident!"

"You kept a secret with him!"

"Justin-"

"What else?"

I blinked at the sudden change in his tone, and tried to understand. "What?"

"What else are you not telling me?" I didn't like that he felt that he had to ask this. I also didn't like that I had an answer.

"Well . . ." At least this would seem miniscule compared to everything else. "There is just one other thing."

He crossed his arms over his chest, and I found myself marveling at how one change in his demeanor effected his entire body. "What? Did you fuck Michael? Murder Emmett?"

"No. I dated Hunter."

There. You know, all things considered I did feel significantly better. At least, I told myself while I waited for his reaction, everything was out in the open. There were no more surprises to unleash on Justin when he least suspected it. And regardless of how angry he was with me, with all of us, he had to forgive. It was in his DNA. Well, except when it came to Ethan, but personally, I always thought he was sort of looking for a reason to ditch that kid anyway.

"Justin, say something," I snapped, when I couldn't take his stoic silence for one more minute.

And to my immense relief, he began to laugh.

"You dated Hunter," he asked me, once his chortling had died down. "You have to be kidding."

I found myself grinning as well. "I'm not _kidding_." I gave him a light push and, with a massive eye-roll, he gently pushed me back.

"So, how did that happen," he asked. I couldn't help but notice that he had stopped and we were still within eyeshot of Liberty Diner. I had to keep myself from rolling my own eyes.

As I opened my mouth to answer, a movement by the diner door caught my attention. A tall, thin, brown-haired guy was stepping inside, and as he turned I saw his face. Then I smiled brightly at Justin. "You wanna talk about Hunter," I asked, already making my way back to Liberty Diner. "Or you wanna meet Owen?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **If it's mentioned somewhere what Daphne actually went to school for, just let me know and I'll make the chapter canon-conducive.

Justin spun around to see if he could get a look at Owen, but the door was now closed, and the object of our attention safely inside. He glanced at me, to see my opinion on the subject, and I nodded back towards the restaurant.

"You're asking the wrong person," I answered. "Because I'd give my right arm to see the two of you meet in front of Brian."

Somehow, that was all the encouragement he needed. Six long strides later (ten, for those of us with slightly shorter legs and no one to obsess over) we were pulling on the door to the diner once more.

You know, I had never really appreciated what an asset Brian's height is. I mean, really, you can spot that guy anywhere. Which, in a small space like Liberty Diner, may not seem like a huge achievement, but you'd know better if you'd ever been inside during one of their busy times.

Anyway, as I was saying, because of Brian's Aspect of the Giant feature we spotted him, Michael, and . . . yep, Owen, right away. Hunter had, thankfully, disappeared - cool though my best friend may be, I was really not prepared for him to re-meet Hunter, as my ex, just yet. Justin immediately began making his way over, and as for me, I stayed a few feet behind. I had met Owen before, of course, so he wasn't new to me, and from this distance I could easily hear without having to worry about being involved or addressed.

"You know, technically, when you storm out of a place you're not really supposed to walk right back in," Michael said to Justin, with only a hint of a bite. I wondered if Brian had said something while Justin and I had been outside.

Justin forced a laugh, before turning to Owen with undisguised intrigue. I had known Justin a long-ass time, so I noted the swift way his eyes flickered to every inch of Owen, checking him out, inwardly comparing the two of them. And while, yes, it's true that I'm possibly a little biased, on account of the best-friends thing Justin and I have going, I will say that Justin and Owen were nowhere near close in the looks-department. I mean, don't get me wrong, Owen could definitely stop traffic, but he was still a little thin where Justin had filled out, and his hair seemed to be somewhere between shaven and possessing real locks. And it was no secret that Brian had always enjoyed running his fingers through Justin's longer hair.

"I'm Justin," I listened to him introduce himself. He stuck out a hand for Owen to shake, which he did, though somewhat hesitantly.

"Owen," he answered. It was hard to tell if he had already made the connection, because though he was peering at Justin with too much curiosity for a random introduction, it could have been anything. I mean, Justin _was _shaking his hand a little too enthusiastically. "Owen Buck."

Justin smirked, as I had known he would when he heard the other man's name. He glanced at Brian out of the corner of his eye, and then continued. "Justin Taylor."

_There _it was, the dawning of comprehension. Owen blinked, clearly taken by surprise, then tried to cover it, somewhat badly. "Oh, Justin. The Ex."

"I'd say I'm more than ex," Justin responded, and though he didn't appear to move, somehow he seemed more . . . In charge than before. "I mean, it's not like we dated for a month." He paused. "Or four."

Okay, so if I had known that Justin was going to be quite this overt in his hostility I would have accompanied him the entire way. As it was, Brian was looking at him like he'd never really seen him before, and Michael, for his part, seemed to be having a tough time keeping his comments to himself. I watched him purse his lips together tightly.

Owen chuckled because, really, what the fuck else was he supposed to do? "Nice to meet you," he answered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'd invite you to join us for lunch, but I'm not sure that's appropriate. I mean, you and Brian were never really friends before, were you?"

"Not unless you fuck _your _friends." Personally, I wasn't sure how great an argument this was, as Brian and I were really the only people Justin was close with and _he'd _slept with both of us, but I kept this particular thought to myself.

"I try not to make it a habit," Owen returned. "Ahh well. C'est la vie."

Out of nowhere a hand clamped around my wrist, and yanked me forward. I tried to pull my arm back from Justin, but his grip was much too strong. "I think you know my buddy, Daphne, here," he said cheerfully. "I'd hate for the two of you not to get a chance to catch up just because I'm here."

I had no idea where to look, as I was having a hard enough time keeping a straight face as it was, so I settled on Brian, who was watching the entire exchange with the look of someone who is not used to feeling weirded-out, but was. He glanced over at me too, and I shrugged my shoulders slightly as if to say, _He's your ex._

It was easy to see, based on his half-smile, that his answer was, _He's __**your **__best friend._

"Yes, that would be a real shame," Owen replied, although he looked as though there was nothing on the planet that would please him less. "Please, Daphne . . . Justin. Join us." He gestured to a vacant table and he, Brian, Justin, and I took seats.

Michael stood over us, but didn't sit. "Well, as fun as this little trip to the Twilight Zone has been," he said, with sarcastic smile, "I'm going to go check on the new kid at the store. Make sure he's not mixing up Captain Astro and Captain America." And he was gone.

"So . . ." I looked at the other three each in turn, and allowed my mind to wander over the various ways I was going to murder Justin later. "How've you been?" I directed this question at Brian.

His lips twisted up into a wide, though fake, smile. "Oh, just great," he answered slowly. "You?"

I tried not to notice the way Owen and Justin were so obviously sizing each other up, and attempted to focus on my reply. "Um, good."

"You graduate yet?"

"Yeah. English degree. No fucking clue what that's good for, but they gave it to me easily enough."

"That's good."

At that moment Hunter reappeared to take our order, and though I had been anxious about seeing him after I'd explained the truth to Justin, I had never been so relieved to see his face.

"I'll have the Cheese Omelet Special," I told him before he even asked. "And a Coke."

Hunter glanced at each of us, and then, rather predictably, grinned. "The four of you are eating together," he questioned in amusement. "Though, I guess stranger things have happened. None that I can think of at this moment but-"

"Bacon and some scrambled eggs," Justin interrupted, as though the damage hadn't already been done. "Milk."

Brian waved Hunter off when he turned to him, and Owen ordered toast and skim milk. "Gotta keep up the figure," he explained with false cheeriness.

Justin gave an airy laugh. "Sure. I mean, with this guy-" He nodded at Brian. "Who knows how long you'll be in a relationship? I mean, it's never really been his strong suit." Brian and I both shot him a look which he ignored. "Brian, don't get upset; it's not your fault. You were just born that way."

"This _is _nice," I commented.

"Oh yeah," Brian agreed. "I can't imagine why we didn't set this up before."


	5. Chapter 5

So Hunter left to go turn in our order, and the four of us eyed each other in silence. In theory this had been a good plan, but now that I was sitting there with Brian, his boyfriend, and his rather persistent ex, I was beginning to see real holes. Like the fact that though there may have been things I could say to each of them individually, topics that all the three would be interested in were somewhat limited. After all, they really only had one thing in common.

I cleared my throat to give myself something to do, then glanced over at Justin, who was staring unabashedly at Brian.

There's only so much discomfort a girl can take.

"So," I blurted, determined to find something we could all discuss that wouldn't turn into a competition, "I heard they're having some sort of Winter Festival at the Center next week." I turned to Brian. "You guys going?"

Brian laughed, and Owen _and _Justin smirked. Okay, this was a little annoying. But as Brian opened his mouth to give an answer, Owen interrupted.

"Brian doesn't do festivals," he told me. Then he glanced over at Justin, wordlessly challenging him to dispute that fact.

My best friend gave a bright smile that somehow managed to convey more malice than cheer. "Well, that's definitely true," he agreed smoothly. "Except when the Center is paying him."

"Oh, you're talking about the Carnival from a couple of years back," Owen acknowledged, as though he was afraid he would lose points for not getting the reference. "Yeah, he told me about that."

"Did he also tell you that just a couple of short weeks after we broke up that he came to me and asked me to paint the poster for the event?"

I rolled my eyes before catching Brian's and while it was quite possible that it was only my imagination, I thought I saw the tiniest of smiles light his features. But it vanished so quickly it was hard to be sure.

"Why yes, he did," Owen replied, with a deeply sarcastic grin of his own. "He also mentioned that you were only present for about five minutes. Had to get back to your boyfriend, right?"

There it was, a crack in Justin's facade, and I wasn't even surprised. After his and Ethan's relationship had crumbled, neither he nor Brian had ever mentioned the young violinist again - as though just saying his name would shake everything they had worked so hard to get through. The last thing Justin wanted was to be reminded of the pain that he had caused Brian, and certainly it wasn't one of Brian's favorite memories either.

I couldn't help wondering if Owen was pouring salt on this particular wound on purpose, though a quick look in his direction showed only a haughty, defensive glare; no traces of outright cruelty.

Nevertheless, intentional or not, his comment jerked Brian out of his calm indifference. Brian looked up sharply, and I tried to pretend that I didn't notice the way his jaw was clenched in unexpressed anger. It was kinda scary, actually, the darkness in his eyes that the mere mention of Ethan had created. I had a sudden, wild vision of him storming out in a fit of rage, but as quickly as the shadow came, it passed.

"So, Taylor," Brian said quietly, "are you just here visiting Daphne?" I heard the question _in _the question, and it was so painfully obvious that it seemed almost odd that neither of the boyfriends commented on it.

"Nope," Justin answered with a large amount of smugness. "Actually, I live here again."

The utter disbelief and, yeah, displeasure on Owen's face was almost comical. I bit hard into my lower lip to keep from laughing out loud, then flinched when I tasted blood. Great. Fucking great.

"You moved back," Owen choked out. I slid my eyes to Brian who was rather determinedly examining his newspaper. "You don't live in New York anymore?"

Justin made a point of looking at Owen as though he had never seen a bigger moron, which I thought was kind of mean, considering. "Right. I. Moved. Back." Then he turned to Brian. "This is who you replaced me-"

Luckily Hunter chose that moment to reappear with our drinks, and I knew I wasn't the only one breathing a sigh of relief at the interruption. Which was proven when Brian suddenly got to his feet. "Well, Daphne, Justin. This has been . . ." His voiced trailed away as he attempted to find an appropriate word. "Interesting. But Owen and I really need to be going. You know, places to see, people to do."

I decided not to point out that his boyfriend had ordered food which hadn't made it over to us yet. "Right," I replied, inwardly pleased that I had found an inoffensive word as well. "Well, I'm sure we'll see you around."

Justin smiled again, and this time it met his eyes. "I'm glad we ran into you," he told his ex sincerely. "And it was lovely meeting you, Owen," he added as an afterthought.

"Oh yeah," Owen muttered as the false-kindness melted away to unconcealed malevolence. "One of my top ten experiences."

And the pair of them disappeared.

Once they were gone, Justin turned to me and gave me a confused look. "I gotta say, I really didn't see that much of a resemblance between us."

I thought of the blatant one-upmanship, and the mutual determination to fight for Brian. "You're right. I don't know what I was thinking."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Um, well, so, I only own seasons one and three, which I guess is where the Brent inclusion came from. I did think he and Emmett were a little hilarious together.

The first few days that followed were far from noteworthy. Brian and Owen were, as far as we could tell, in hiding, so we spent our time catching up with the others that hadn't seen my best friend since the holidays. We met Emmett and Brent (his new/old flame) for dinner, and Ted and Blake for drinks. We spent every lunch at the diner because, really, Debbie would skin both of us alive if we even considered trying to find another restaurant. (Not that we would, of course. Debbie was a second mom to him, and a favorite aunt, at the very least, to me.) We hung out with Jennifer, Tucker, and Molly through the week, playing Taboo, Scrabble, and, in one particularly disastrous instance, Monopoly, which had ended with Molly bankrupting all of us. Even after I offered her real money to let me out of just one rent.

And really, it was fun. Justin was laughing more than I'd seen him since before he left, and with each passing day he became more determined and optimistic. More than once I caught him grinning to himself, and when I asked about the reason for it, he gave a coy shrug and just answered, "Brian."

It was an entire week before we made any further Operation Britin attempts. As the Decision Maker of our plans, I had held firm on my decision to avoid Babylon, at least at first, but after the seventh day of no Brian, I realized that we had no fucking choice. Not that I'm not a fan of Babylon, but it's not a place that you see a lot of straight girls.

We decided to go on Friday.

"So, how do I look," Justin asked me for the fourth time that evening. I fell backwards on my bed, then rolled onto my side to give him yet another critique.

White button down with blue pinstripes and a white tee underneath, and jeans. I made a face. "Too preppy. But you can keep the jeans."

He rolled his eyes, then withdrew another shirt. "You know," he commented as he pulled it on, "you're being kind of strict with the dress code, Daph. Hopefully I won't have to wear it long." He stood in front of me again. "Better?"

I knew where he was coming from about the clothes, but I was doing this for his own good. He hadn't dressed for Brian in a year, and, quite frankly, I really do have kick ass taste. So I eyed the new shirt. "Looks good," I was finally able to say, and I gave a bright smile. It really did. This time he had chosen a light brown sweater with a blue trim along the neckline. Only . . . "Haven't you had that for a while?"

He dropped his gaze in embarrassment, and I narrowed my eyes suspiciously.

"What?"

"This _might_ be shirt I wore when we made up after Ethan," he answered with another shrug. Off my look he added defensively, "What? You don't have things you kept for sentimental value?"

"Not clothes."

"It's a queer thing."

"Oh, we're in agreement there."

He shot me a glare, though it didn't reach his eyes, and with a laugh we left the apartment.

By the time we got to Babylon, the evening was in full swing. Already, the dance floor was packed with half-naked guys grinding against each other to the beat of "Don't Stop the Music" by Rihanna, which I personally thought was fairly recent for the Babylon DJ, not that I was complaining. Weaving through the throngs of men, we made our way to the bar.

"A Long Island," I requested, the moment the bartender saw us.

He cocked an eyebrow at Justin, who nodded and said, "Make it two."

As the bartender turned to make our drinks, I gave the dance floor a more detailed examination. Brian was here somewhere. I'd confirmed with Ted (who, now that he was with Kinnetic, remained aware of his boss's whereabouts for the most part) twice before coming, so now all we had to do was locate the gorgeous bastard.

Unfortunately, I didn't immediately locate him, so I pursed my lips and returned my attention to Justin and my waiting drink.

"Would you relax," my best friend hissed at me as I took a first sip. "You're stressing me out."

"Sorry," I responded. "But aren't you excited? He's here! You guys' second home, practically."

"Oh please. It's just a club." But neither of us really believed that.

Suddenly the beat changed, and I recognized "Cable Car" coming over the speakers. God, I fucking loved that song. I opened my mouth to see if Justin would be willing to dance, so I wouldn't have to do so by myself, when a sharp voice caused my thoughts to detour dramatically.

"At what point did I tell Jackson to start playing fucking slow shit?"

Justin and I stared at each other before turning simultaneously. There, advancing towards the bar, was Brian, looking amazing as ever in a black wife (or husband) beater and jeans. He was the only man I'd ever known who could make casual look so chic.

"Brian," Justin acknowledged smoothly, as though he hadn't gotten to an argument with Brian's boyfriend the last time they had seen each other. Owen, who had been following Brian closely, stopped short when he saw us and let out a quiet, though discernible, sigh.

"I'm going to dance," he snapped, and immediately he went back the way they had come.

Brian was silent for a split second, then he confusedly shook his head and took a seat. Beside me. "I didn't really think this was your scene, Daphne," he said. "Or else I would have added you to the List. You guys wouldn't have had to wait outside in the cold."

Finally he looked at Justin, and it was hard to tell if he recognized the shirt in question or not. I couldn't imagine that he would, but the way his eyes swept across my best friend seemed too speculative for innocence.

"Well, you know," I replied, though I was fairly sure I had already been forgotten. "I was really just in the mood to watch guys that would never be interested in me make out with each other. It's my new thing."

Brian shifted his eyes back to me. "It's always good to have a hobby."

"What about you, Brian," Justin intervened quickly. "You have any hobbies?" He raised his eyebrows and I, for my part, pretended I wasn't listening, or that I didn't understand what Justin was really asking - whichever one Brian would believe. Which, honestly, was probably neither.

There was a moment where no one spoke, then, in a voice too soft for our surroundings, he answered, "No, I can't say that I do."

I took another large swallow of my drink to save myself the trouble of formulating an comment of some kind. I couldn't stop my eyes from finding Justin's, and the shocked pain there was tough to ignore. I hated to think what Justin must have been feeling, knowing that Brian was in a monogamous relationship, when it had never, not once, worked for them.

But reason fell to me, and still I wasn't worried. All that meant was that Brian was more unfulfilled than ever, and as I pondered that, I was struck by another brilliant idea. "Wanna dance," I asked Brian, ignoring the look of surprise both men shared. Brian gave me a blank look, and it was clear he was trying to think of an excuse, any excuse. "Come on," I cajoled. "I'm sure Owen would agree that I'm the safest option here."

Brian let out a derisive laugh. "I'm not sure that's true." But he took a step towards the dance floor.

Before walking to him, I stopped to whisper in Justin's ear, "Don't worry. There's rhyme and reason to this."

_Let's rearrange,  
I wish you were a stranger I could disengage.  
Just say that we agree and then never change._

Once we were on the dancefloor, we shared a brief moment of awkwardness. It occurred me that Brian had, perhaps, never danced with a girl, and I had never danced with someone so tall. We chuckled together, then I nervously rested my hands on his forearms and he wrapped his arms around my waste.

"It's a little weird," I told him with another laugh.

He smirked. "A little. I usually like my dance partners to be a little further away from the ground. And it doesn't help that you're lacking one crucial element here."

"Not anymore," I replied.

_Soften a bit, until we all just get along._

"_What_," he questioned, thunderstruck.

"Not what I mean," I clarified quickly. "I just meant that it's not like you're allowed 'crucial elements' since Owen. I still can't believe you're in a relationship. A regular, normal, monogamous, relationship."

Brian shrugged. "It's not a big deal."

"It is to Justin." I looked up at my dancing partner. "Seems odd that you couldn't make it work with him, but for Owen, whom you've known all of a few months, you're willing to give up the one night stands. Or, rather, one hour stands."

"Did you ask me to dance just so you could try to lay the guilt on thick?"

"Are you surprised?"

_Everyone knows I'm in  
over my head,  
over my head_

"I guess not. But for the record-" Then he saw something behind me that made him stop. "Isn't that Hunter," he suddenly asked, and I turned to check.

It was, and he was walking towards us with a very serious look. My hands fell away from Brian, and I stepped to my ex in concern. "What's wrong," I asked immediately. I recognized the expression as his "so fucking bad" look.

He took a deep, terrified breath. "It's Debbie."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **Sorry it's been so long since an update. Family drama, and then PRIDE got in the way of my ability to sleep, so I haven't felt rested enough to attempt another chapter. But now I'm rested and ready to go. BTW, UPMC is apparently a hospital in Pittsburgh. Comments make me shriek with delight.

"What about her," Brian instantly demanded as I felt Justin approach from the side. I didn't have to look over at either of them to know what I would see: pale faces, nervous eyes. Debbie was like family to so many of the patrons of Liberty Avenue, moreso to Brian and Justin. After all, it was she who had cared for a young Brian when no one else did, and taken Justin in when his family hadn't been willing. They both loved her more than anyone else could understand.

"She fell down the stairs at her and Carl's," Hunter answered hurriedly. It was hard to miss his raw fear, and I had to fight back the urge to throw my arms around him. "My dads took her to the E.R. and the doctors said she just broke her wrist, and she's going to be fine, but Michael's-"

"Queening out?"

Hunter gave a shaky smile. "Yeah, pretty much."

Despite the seriousness of the situation I had a sudden mental image of Michael at the hospital, shrieking at the top of his lungs about the care of his mother, and it lifted my spirits. At least she was going to be okay, and I was certain Michael would ensure she was being taken care of by the professionals.

"Where are they now," I asked him.

"They're still at the hospital." He shot Brian an imploring look. "My dad wants you to meet him there, if you can. He said he tried to call you but couldn't get through." Considering the loud music and eight million people, that wasn't hard to believe.

Brian nodded, his eyes moving searchingly over the dance floor. "I gotta find Owen," he muttered to no one in particular.

I opened my mouth to answer, but Hunter beat me to it. "I'll find him," he offered quickly, and maybe it was something in his voice, or the way he was rather determinedly avoiding my eye, but I found myself examining him a little more closely. And while, yes, there was legitimate concern in the lines of his face, it occurred to me that there was a good chance that he might be exaggerating the story a little bit. Though I couldn't begin to guess why.

At first.

"Hey, Daph, why don't you drive them," Hunter suggested, and now that I'd moved from fear to suspicion I could see a tiny speck of amusement behind his eyes. "Owen and I will meet you guys there."

I glanced at Brian and Justin to see if they had noticed anything, but of course their thoughts were with someone else. "I can," I agreed in confusion. I turned back to them. "If you guys want."

Justin gave a distracted nod and took a step towards the exit as Brian pulled on his coat.

"I'll meet you guys outside," I told them. "Just give me like 30 seconds." As they walked away, I turned back to Hunter and fixed him with an angry glare. "What the fuck are you doing?"

He widened his eyes innocently. "What do you mean?"

"I _mean _that Debbie may be hurt but if the situation is as dire as you're making it seem then I'm going to eat my fingernails." He recoiled in disgust but didn't deny my allegations. "Hunter!"

"I'm trying to help," he finally snapped. "Obviously this is out of your league."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, fuck if I'm going to pay Michael fifty bucks."

"_This is about the bet?"_

Okay, see, this is what happened.

Truthfully, I was a little closer to Hunter than I had let Justin, or anyone, really, know. I mean, I probably made it sound like he and I only went out a few times, but truthfully we were together six months. And it was a serious six months. There was really no logic behind it, but when we were together we just fit, you know? It worked. We were happy.

But, like every other good thing, it came to an end, and an end of my own choosing, so I really had no one to blame but myself. We stayed close friends because I couldn't really function well without him in my life, and at the very least, we could see each other. It was sort of like . . . being out of cigarettes. I found myself edgy and tense without a daily dose.

Anyway, yeah, we were close. And so when Justin told me about his plans to return to the Pitts, I had mentioned it to Hunter because, when it comes to scheming, we actually do have similar thinking. I had figured he would be of assistance, hoping he could feed me ideas when I started running out. Plus, he was Michael's kid, and it wasn't exactly a secret that Michael had some issues with my best friend. I had hoped that Hunter would run interference.

Except he had to go and blab to Michael what Justin was planning, which resulted in Michael insisting that there was no way, after everything, that Brian would ever consider Justin again. And you know, Hunter really couldn't care less about Brian and Justin being together, but I guess there was something about Michael's defiance that got under my ex's skin and lead to an argument that ended with a wager.

I told Hunter I wanted no part of any stupid bet, but regardless of our different reasons, he and I were on the same side.

"Of course it's about the bet," he returned, giving me a slightly incredulous look. "What the fuck else?"

Really, I could have lunged at him, but ultimately decided that I had more important matters at hand. "I don't need help. Brian and Justin belong together. They know it. I know it. Even Michael knows it. And if you keep interfering with my plans, there's a good chance that I will _rip your hair out by its roots._"

"I thought you wanted my help."

"With ideas. Your execution leaves a little to be desired."

He gave me a smug grin. "At least I got them into the same car. What have you accomplished?"

The drive to the hospital was quiet. Justin and Brian were obviously wrapped up in concerned thoughts about Debbie, and I passed the ride by counting the number of times that Brian glanced at Justin in the side-view mirror (16, for those wondering). It wasn't until we were five minutes outside of UPMC that someone finally spoke.

"Are you alright?"

I jumped a mile at the sudden, gentle words, and slid my eyes over to Brian, who was watching Justin in the mirror again. Justin, luckily, wasn't crying or anything (if he had been, we would have had to turn the car around so I could beat the crap out of Hunter for scaring everyone), but the clenched jaw, and tight eyes spoke volumes about his concern for his surrogate mother.

"I'm fine," Justin answered, though it was a little hard to believe.

Brian sighed. "You heard Hunter. She's going to be fine. If there was really something to worry about, Mikey wouldn't have wasted time calling - he would have sent someone right away. He knew I was going to Babylon."

I wanted to jump in and agree, but I knew Brian would be able to reach him better than I could.

"I know." But Justin continued to stare out the window.

_Try harder, _I silently urged. I could see the wheels turning in Brian's mind, and then he spoke again. "I bought one of your paintings, you know."

It was clearly a distraction technique, but that didn't matter. I was completely floored, and if Justin's expression was any indication, he was too.

"You did?" Then his tone changed to skepticism. "Which one?"

Brian's lips turned up into a small smile. "The one you did of Babylon. It was hanging in the show in April."

"You didn't have to buy it," Justin said softly, visibly touched. He knew which painting Brian was talking about. "I would have given it to you. I mean, I owe it _all _to you."

"Bullshit."

There was silence again as Justin considered this information, then he looked up and stared at Brian in surprise. "Wait a second. You were at my showing? Why didn't you find me?"

Brian blinked, and I, for my part, tried to hide the disbelief I felt. "I didn't go to your showing," Brian answered after a long moment. "I have a boyfriend."

"So, not only were you at my show," Justin said with a wide, slightly accusatory smile, "but now you're lying about it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"How'd you get the painting?"

I stole another glance at Brian, who looked, well, more than a little guilty. "I got it off your site," he said, but the words didn't really reach his eyes.

Justin grinned, even more self-satisfied than before. If that was possible. He met Brian's eyes in the mirror. "You know, I didn't really plan to even sell that piece, until my agent told me the buyer was offering a small fortune. It was going to be part of a series." He paused, I supposed, for dramatic effect. "So it wasn't on the site."


End file.
